


Until the Storm Passes

by OzQueen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Love Bites, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Battle Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything's wet," Steve said apologetically, studiously averting his eyes from Natasha's pale naked body as he stripped his own soaked clothes off. "The pack wasn't waterproof. I'm not sure what we've got to keep you warm."</p><p>"I've got you," she said through chattering teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the Storm Passes

**Author's Note:**

> I had grand plans for porn battle, and then work/life got in the way. 
> 
> Using the prompts: storm, tent, bruise

* * *

 

The car had gone into the water. She could remember seeing everything upside down through the cracked windshield — skeletal branches against the overcast sky, the icicles hanging from the bridge, and the flat ice of the river giving way beneath the sudden weight of their car.

She couldn't remember the impact, or how they got out. She was numb, skin prickling with the cold, ice already freezing in her wet hair, her boots full of water as her feet swayed back and forth, buoyed by the rhythm of Steve's body as he ran.

"Put me down," she demanded, fumbling for her gun with numb fingers, teeth chattering. "I can get a shot, Rogers, put me down…" She craned her head to look back over his shoulder, but the road was far behind them, their pursuers nowhere to be seen.

He hoisted her higher in his arms and didn't answer, just kept running, the snow starting to fall thick and fast until it covered the tracks he'd left behind them.

He'd salvaged one pack from the back of the car. Natasha shivered and fumbled with the plastic tent, unfolding it against the snow as Steve knitted poles together and pushed pegs into the frozen ground with his bare hands. When he pulled her inside, she burned with the cold.

Her gun was gone but she had knives in her boots and her belt, and she had Steve.

He cupped her face in his cold hands, his eyes wide as he stared at her. "Natasha?"

"I'm fine," she said, shrugging him off. Her boots were full of water; she unlaced them and tipped the river water out at the front of the tent.

"I'm not sure how they pinned us," Steve said, but his voice drifted in and out; she shook her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears. "They weren't following us for long before they made their move."

Natasha touched the lump above her temple gingerly. "How many?"

"At least four. Heavily armed. I grabbed a pack and I grabbed you and came out of the ice further downriver." His voice was soft. "Thought I'd kept you down there too long. You weren't breathing when we came up."

She glanced sideways at him as she started stripping her wet clothing. "Guess I owe you one, then."

He huffed a laugh and shook his head.

She gave him a small smile before she stripped her shirt over her head. She could feel every breath of icy air on her skin; the cold knifed all the way down to her bones. She wrung everything out, water running over her wrists and away into the snow at the front of the tent.

"Everything's wet," Steve said apologetically, studiously averting his eyes from Natasha's pale naked body as he stripped his own soaked clothes off. He zipped the tent closed and the light was dim, the shadow of snow falling against the domed roof. "The pack wasn't waterproof. I'm not sure what we've got to keep you warm."

"I've got you," she said through chattering teeth.

He was hesitant at first, trying to provide modesty when there was room for none.

"Closer," she ordered, and her voice broke as she shivered. He was so warm; his chest pressed up against her back and she groaned and wriggled backwards, seeking his skin to press against her own. She grabbed his hand and pulled his arm over her, clenching her chattering teeth as he cautiously spooned himself around her. She could feel the cold seeping up through the plastic floor of the tent, but Steve was warm, warm, warm.

"We'll wait for the storm to blow out and then we'll head for higher ground. Pretty sure there's a radio tower up there. We can get a message out."

"Mm." She closed her eyes. Her head was pounding and she was numb, toes burning, ice melting in her hair. Steve's breath was warm against her shoulder. He folded his hands around hers, cradling her trembling fingers.

"How's your head?"

"Fine. Aching. It's okay." She shuffled back again, encouraging him to tuck his knees up behind hers. "You got out okay?"

"Nothing to complain about." His voice was low. She could feel the brush of his lips against the back of her neck and it sent a thrill down her spine, warming her blood. This time, when she moved herself against him, she rolled her hips and felt his cock stir in response.

She twisted her upper body so she could see him. His eyes looked dark in the dim light.

"Closer, Steve." She kissed him, chaste at first, just pulling his lower lip between hers and sucking gently.

"Natasha…"

"Warm me," she whispered. She kissed him again, rolled her hips, and he moved forward, one hand splaying over her hip and pulling her to him, his mouth closing over hers. His hand strayed down over her stomach, fingers spread wide and gliding over her skin. She rolled over, pressing her breasts against his chest and opening her mouth to his tongue.

He glanced one thumb gently over the lump on her temple, a cautious, silent question.

"Shut up," she murmured, and she cupped his jaw in her hands, hooked her leg over his hip and pulled him closer. He was hard now, she could feel the warm curve of his erection against her stomach. She urged him closer, pulling his hip to hers and rocking her body slightly so they both shivered with the friction of it.

She could tell he wanted to talk; he kept making soft noises that sounded like the beginning of words. Reluctance, maybe, or just nervousness escaping via a need to make plans for what should happen next.

She stopped him every time — licked her tongue across his lips, grazed her teeth over his jaw and his chin, slid her palm and her fingers against his cock. He hummed a contented noise against the top of her head and she took his hand and guided it between her legs. She was already wet, and when he started to stroke her she tightened all over in anticipation, fingers digging into his arm, her breath hot against the pulse in his neck.

She climbed onto him and arched her back when his cock pressed inside her. He leaned back on his elbows and watched her, his long lashes throwing shadows under his eyes, slender fingers on her hip, guiding her rhythm as she rolled against him.

Her blood was hot in her veins now, and the enclosed dome of the tent was warm with their breath and their bodies. Steve tipped his head back and she leaned forward, sucking hard against his neck and his collarbone, watching the bruises rise before they faded before her eyes again, the serum in his blood fighting against her.

She raked a nail down over his chest and he shivered and bucked his hips beneath her, causing her to gasp and grind down against him.

"Harder," she urged, and she clawed at his shoulders, drawing him in, her nails grading lines down his back. "Fuck…"

He buried his face against her neck, teeth nipping her skin, and clutched her hips hard in his hands, rolling her over so he was above her.

"Harder," she gasped again, and she closed her eyes as he started thrusting into her, his arms either side of her, pinning her beneath him. She reached down and started to stroke her clit, circling her fingers and focusing on the slick glide of Steve between her legs.

She opened her eyes when she came, but she didn't cry out, just let her breath escape in a quick burst, all of her muscles tight, nails marking deep crescents in Steve's broad shoulders.

He lowered his head and buried his face against her neck, thrusting slowly, moving his hips in circles to increase the shivery pressure against her clit.

"Steve." Her voice broke and she let her hands fall helplessly above her head, closing her eyes again and arching her hips to meet him, warm and weak under him when she came again. He came seconds later, soft moans against her mouth as he kissed her.

He curled around her again and she let him nestle in, warm breath at the back of her neck, long fingers stroking over the soft skin of her breasts.

"Storm's gonna last for hours," he said sleepily. "We could be stuck here a while." 

She grinned and closed her eyes. "Could be worse."

 

 


End file.
